


Secrecy

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Got an ask with a request: Spideypool and secrets? Maybe Wade giving some sort of deep dark secret or the other way around, I donno.</p><p>Peter elects to take a risk and tell Wade his name. Wade reacts amorously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrecy

 “You know, Wade, one day I'm gonna get tired of helping you out.” Peter says, and Wade keeps running over the rooftops as he follows after the younger man's lead, and he sounds a little out of breath but he keeps on going. Occasionally Peter hears a disconcerting slap or crack of flesh, muscle or bone, but he's learned not to ask unless Wade is actually asking him to stop. “Here.”

“You know, Spidey, I'm getting real tired of seeing you with your clothes on.” Wade retorts, and Peter's head whips around; he _stares_ for a second.

“What?”

“Nothing, Bug-Boy, nothing at all.” Wade replies smoothly, and Peter frowns and furrows his brow behind his mask, uncertain. This is not the first time Wade has made some vague come-on or another, but it's the first one Peter's managed to hear in its entirety. “And you'd _never_ get tired of helping me out. People just wouldn't buy the series if you left me hanging.”

“Series?” Peter repeats, a bit confused by Wade's (as usual) cryptic comments.

“Nothing, nothing,” Wade moves forwards, and he presses into Peter's space, looks down at him. “You're short, huh?” Peter spits out a quick, sharp feed of web that sticks Wade's foot to the floor as he takes a step forwards, intending to send the older man flat on his face, but Deadpool lands against his chest instead, his hands on Peter's shoulders.

It's not the first time Wade's been in his personal space, and it's not the first time Peter's liked it either. “It's four inches difference.”

“Four inches can mean a _lot_.” Wade purrs, and he pulls his leg free before catching Peter by the hips, and then he _dips_ him, and Peter _stares_ up at the other man as his shoulders and his hips are neatly grasped by Wade's hands. “Spidey, let's elope to Mexico! Our love can be free there!” Deadpool says in a terrible Spanish accent.

“You're a jerk, Wade.”

“Wade, Wade, _Wade!_ You always gotta use my name, _Spidey_.”

“Do you want to know mine?” Peter asks out of the blue.

Wade drops him on the floor, and it is only Peter's Spider Sense that keeps him from landing on his back on the floor. He flips himself just before he hits the ground, his hands splaying before he pushes himself up. “Thanks, man, just drop me. Real friendly.”

“Whoa, hey, Spidey, I know you wanna, like, probably apply for our marriage licence-”

“That's not happening.”

“Take out a lease on a house with me,”

“No.”

“Get our adoption papers together,”

“Don't you already have a kid?”

“But you know, Spidey, you don't gotta do that for me!” Wade speaks brightly, with his hands on his chest crossed over each other. Peter wonders if he realizes that he can see Wade's hands shaking slightly, and can't help but not _get_ it. Why is Wade so _upset_ about this? “Mask is sacred, huh?”

Peter trusts Wade Wilson. He's not entirely sure why – several times Deadpool's come back to Peter's city, again and again.

He's even offered a _hand_ here and there, though he's even getting a little better at the whole “don't murder people” part. Peter can't rationalize it, can't order out why he trusts in Wade when he's such an _idiot_ , but Wade is smart, and sort of tries to be a decent guy.

Sometimes.

Peter pulls off his mask, and Deadpool puts his hands over his eyes. Peter rolls his own, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at the older man expectantly. There's a pause. Wade's fingers open a crack. He peeks through his mask and parted fingers at Peter, and then his hands drop away from his face completely.

He _stares_ at Peter, Wade does, stares at his face as he pulls his mask up a little.

“Peter Parker.” He says lightly as Wade bares his scarred mouth and lips, and Peter puts out his hand for the other man to shake, and Wade takes it, his gaze remaining on Peter's face.

“Wade Wilson.” He says, and he doesn't take his hand off Peter's, keeping hold of it. “Would it be weird if I kissed you right now?”

“On this building in the middle of New York City?” Peter asks dryly. “Yeah.” There's a pause. “Do it.” Wade throws himself forwards, cups his – warm, surprisingly broad – hands on either side of Peter's face and kisses him hard, so hard that Peter's knees give out slightly and he drops into Wade a little.

He doesn't mind so much. He doubts Deadpool gets the opportunity to have a _real_ damsel very often.

Wade draws away and then he's back, kissing Peter again, and then again, and Peter feels _dizzy_ with it, heightened senses electrifying his skin as Wade's chapped, weirdly scarred and marred lips press over his own; Wade's tongue is wet and dexterous in a way Peter's never experienced before, and his hands slide from Peter's hips up to his waist and then down to cup his ass.

“I'm topping tonight.” Peter says against Wade's mouth, and Deadpool has the gall to laugh at him.

“Uh, no, pretty sure I'm _bigger_ than you, Petey, and that means-”

“You'll look even better spread out on my bed?”

“Yeah, for you to ride my _dick_ , baby boy.”

“Baby boy? Are you serious, you're gonna callme baby boy? Do you know how weird that is?”

“D'you know how weird my dick is? You telling me you don't want to feel that in your ass, huh, huh? All the ladies want this peen, Petey.”

“I'm not a lady, Wade.”

“No, Peter!” Deadpool says in a sudden British accent, dropping to the side and putting the back of one of his hands to his forehead, feigning some sort of Victorian swoon. “You're a brazen jezebel!”

“Wade.”

“Yeah, no, he's totally into it. Look at his face.” Wade says to someone that isn't Peter, and he wonders if he's put his trust in completely the right guy for a second. “Pretty face. Such a pretty face, such a pretty boy, such a pretty _spider_ -”

“I'm topping tonight.” Peter says again, and Wade grins at him.

“Fight ya for it, dude.” Wade says.

“No guns.”

“Fine.”

“No _blades_. No _weapons_.” Wade frowns at him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Peter with a _pout_ over his mouth.

“Petey, come on.”

“ _I'm_ topping tonight. And then you top tomorrow night.”

“Like a rota? Like chores? Are you luring me into your web of domesticity?” Peter groans and puts his hands over his face, and then Wade grabs him, pulling him close and pressing a ridiculously sloppy kiss to Peter's forehead. “Can we do it in the kitchen? Can I wear a maid outfit?”

“Do you have a maid outfit?”

“Uh, _yeah_ , kiddo, don't you?”

“No, Wade, what the Hell?”

“We're going _shopping_ then, come on, Petey, let's go shopping! We can get you a maid outfit, a gimp suit – did I tell you I'm rich? I could be your sugar daddy!” Peter stares up at him for a second, expression unimpressed. “Or I could just be your hot older man.” Peter arches an eyebrow. “Petey, you're wounding me here.”

“You can wear the maid outfit, but we're not having sex in the kitchen.”

“Why not?”

“Unsanitary.”

“ _You're_ unsanitary.” Peter pulls on his mask, and then he regards the other man for a second. “Don't you do it, Spidey.”

“Don't what?” Peter asks, stepping back toward the wall as he considers how the Hell Wade knew what he was going to say before _he_ did.

“Don't you call me that.”

“You think you can catch up as we go through the city... Old man?”

“Oh, I'm gonna _spank_ you before I put on that maid outfit, Spidey!” Wade yells, and then he's running, throwing himself across the space between the two buildings, and Peter laughs, looking back to see-

No one.

Sheepishly, he goes to the edge, looking down at Wade as he sits himself up from the ground – oh, God, how far down is that?

“Sorry!” Peter calls down, and Deadpool shakes his fist up at him, his other hand on his hip like he actually _is_ an old man.

“I'll get yooou, Spiderman!” He calls back, and Peter shoots down a web, catching Wade by the back of his uniform and pulling him up to the roof again. “Ha. Told you I'd get ya. Like an unlockable in an arcade game” Wade says as he steps forwards and puts his hands firmly on Peter's hips.

He's pretty into the whole physical contact thing, huh?

Peter hopes this won't get him killed. Why is he doing this? Why is he into _Wade_? Weird Wade Wilson, with the whole ex-assassin, weird-ass humour, fucked-up _self_?

“You got me.” Peter says. “You want me to carry you?” Deadpool looks off the side of the building.

“You want to _carry_ me? As you swing through the city? Like a l'il _spider_ baby?”

“Not the last part.”

“Let's go, _Dad!”_

“No, don't call me that, that's weird. Hold onto me.” Wade wraps his arms around Peter, _tightly_.

“You wanna take that hand out of my asscrack?”

“Are you wearing underwear?”

“ _No._ Hand out of my asscrack, please. I'm not jumping off a building with your fingers against my balls.” Wade puts his left hand on Peter's hip, and they freefall backwards off the building until Peter puts out his hand and webs his way forwards; Wade lets out a whoop of noise, and then a sort of grumbling. “Don't you dare be sick.”

“I'm not gonna- _ugh_ – be sick-”

“Wade, I swear to God-”

“I'm not gonna, it's not happening-”

“ _Wade_!”

\---

“Petey!” Wade calls, and Peter looks up from the bed at Wade where he's sat at his computer, having admitted to knowing nothing of computers before going on to insult his monitor, keyboard, external hard drive and default search engine.

“Wade.”

“You want this dress in pink or blue?” Peter closes his eyes and puts his face to the pillow.

“Is this relationship going to necessitate I crossdress along with you?”

“Petey, clothes are just fabric and thread. You don't need to gender them.” Wade says in a surprisingly reasonable and educated tone. Peter waits for it. “Let's go for a spicy _red!_ Like a salsa!”

“Okay.” Peter says, and he lies on his side, watching Wade with his eyes half-lidded. “Where'd you learn to do that thing with your tongue?”

“Which thing?”

“The first one.” Wade spins in Peter's chair, grinning at him. He isn't wearing his mask now, and Peter can see his face in all its messed-up glory. He likes it, actually. What does that say about him?

“Oh, Petey, have I got a story for _you_.” Peter watches the other man as he scoots the chair ungracefully forwards, a slight smile on his face. Wade starts to talk, and he listens, weirdly fascinated by another fucked-up story that's at least half lies.

But then, he told Wade a secret today. No shame in Wade sharing a few trade ones in return. 


End file.
